


Keep On Surprising Me

by Lauriana25



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Fluff, Kissing, Love, M/M, Strong Language, Yuri Plisetsky's Nickname Is Yurio, some sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauriana25/pseuds/Lauriana25
Summary: When their flight back home after the Cup of China is cancelled, Yuuri and Victor have to stay in Beijing overnight. No big deal, right? Right??





	Keep On Surprising Me

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot story takes place straight after episode seven, when…. pfft! Like I need to tell YOU what happened in episode seven!!
> 
> Anyways, Yuuri Katsuki can’t stop thinking about what happened. Victor Nikiforov is embarrassed about what happened. And Yurio Plisetsky’s just disgusted about what happened.
> 
> This is my first ever fanfic post! Hope you enjoy it ^_^

               “Well, I guess it can’t be helped.”

                Yuuri heard Victor sigh as he handed his credit card over to the receptionist. Their flight from Beijing back to Hasetsu had been cancelled, so now they were having to stay in a hotel overnight. They’d already managed to secure seats on a flight the following evening – almost twenty-four hours later than they’d originally hoped for – so, right now, all they wanted was a place to sleep.

                The hotel they had been staying in for the Cup of China had been one of the best that Yuuri had ever stayed in, so Victor had insisted on them staying there again. After all, it was just one more night. He was sure there’d be rooms available, seeing as most of the other skaters had already left.

                But when they got to the main desk, they’d been told by a very apologetic young woman that they were fully booked. Well…almost. There was one room available.

                Yuuri thought he’d misheard. Perhaps his English wasn’t as good as he’d thought.

                The Honeymoon Suite???

                He was going to tell Victor to just forget about it; after all, there were hundreds of hotels in the city. Surely, they’d be able to find two rooms in another one. Or even a room with twin beds…

                But before his brain could form a coherent sentence, Victor had handed over his credit card.

                “Umm, Vic-Victor?”

                Victor glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes the same shade as summer skies, framed by silver lashes.

                “Something wrong, Yuuri?” he asked the young Japanese man standing next to him, slightly amused by the look of absolute horror on his face.

                “Umm…isn’t this…?”

                “Isn’t this what?”

                _Weird. Wrong. Stupid. Ridiculous. Insane. Expensive._

Yeah. That was an adjective that worked!

                “Isn’t this expensive?” Yuuri finally managed to say, willing his tongue to stop fumbling, “I mean, for one night?”

                Victor smiled and shrugged. “Isn’t the Honeymoon Suite usually booked for one night?”

                Yuuri felt something like electricity run up and down his spine at Victor’s teasing. That wasn’t what he was talking about and Victor knew it! But the way the Russian man smiled as he said it, like an innocent child who didn’t quite understand what was going on, made Yuuri tense.

                Victor laughed as Yuuri’s tongue failed him again. He wrapped one arm around his shoulders, giving them an affectionate squeeze.

                “Relax, Yuuri,” he chuckled, “It’s a room with four walls and a bed. Nothing scary about that, is there?”

                _Oh no,_ Yuuri felt sarcasm fill his head, even if his tongue refused to say it out loud, _except that it only has ONE bed!_

It was so frustrating! He was a grown man, for crying out loud! He shouldn’t have been this wound up about staying in the same room as another man. Right?

                Except, it wasn’t just any man. It was Victor Nikiforov. His idol. His coach.

                The man who’d just kissed him in front of God knows how many people, live on TV!

                Yuuri felt his cheeks burn as he replayed that moment in his head for the thousandth time; he’d just finished his Free Skate programme to his original song “Yuri On Ice”; after a couple of mistakes, he’d turned things around when he changed his final jump from a toe loop to a flip. But not just any flip – a quad, the signature move of Victor himself! The crowd had gone wild at such an energetic display, and even the judges had been bowled over. But all Yuuri had cared about was what Victor had thought.

                When he looked over to the rink edge, Victor had had his face in his hands. Yuuri panicked. Was Victor mad? Was he crying? He needed to know! Then Victor had sprinted to the Kiss & Cry and waited for Yuuri. Yuuri had pushed himself to where his coach stood.

                “Victor, did you see that? I did great, right?”

                What had happened next was a blur.

                Victor, saying nothing, had smiled warmly at Yuuri and closed his eyes. Arms outstretched, he had leapt from the Kiss & Cry, landing on top of Yuuri. His arms had wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulders and back, cushioning his fall onto the ice.

                And…he had pressed his lips to Yuuri’s.

                All Yuuri could focus on was the lights overheard as he toppled backwards, stunned to the point where he couldn’t breathe. It was like his brain had shut off, leaving no other senses active except those that felt the gentle but firm pressure of Victor’s soft, warm mouth on his.

                “I wanted to surprise you more than you surprised me. This was the only thing I could think of.” Victor had said when he’d finally lifted himself onto his elbows, smiling sweetly at the man under him. His eyes twinkled, reflecting both the ice and the lights. His cheeks had been dusted with the lightest pink. His starlight-silver hair had fallen in front of his left eye.

                And, to his amazement, Yuuri had had the urge to brush those strands of silver to one side, just to get a better look at the pools of blue below them.

                At the time, they had both laughed, adrenaline blamed for the unusual action. But afterwards, during interviews, as Victor excitedly rambled on about Yuuri’s performance and his silver medal, and how he was looking forward to returning to Russia for the Rostelecom Cup as Yuuri’s coach, Yuuri had phased out, until everything sounded like white noise.

                _Victor kissed me. Victor kissed ME! VICTOR kissed ME! VICTOR KISSED ME!_

“Yuuri?”

                Yuuri snapped out of his thoughts and was surprised to see he was standing in front of a door. Wasn’t he just at the check-in desk? How did he get here? It was then he felt a warm pressure on his wrist and glanced down. He nearly fainted when he saw Victor’s gloved hand wrapped round his wrist and realised that he must have dragged him to the room while he was lost in his frazzled mind.

                He must have looked a sorry sight, he thought, being dragged to the Honeymoon Suite by another man.

                Yuuri swallowed thickly at that thought, panic starting to claw at his chest.

                “Yuuri?” Victor broke him out of his thoughts again, his voice starting to rise a little, a frown playing on his brow. Yuuri seemed really out of it, more than usual, and it made Victor worry.

                “Umm… Sorry. Guess I’m just tired.” Yuuri tried to smile, but it felt lopsided and fake. But it seemed to appease his coach, the tension leaving his shoulders as he smiled back. He swiped the key card over the lock. A tiny green light above the handle blinked twice and Yuuri heard the mechanism click.

                His heart started to thump a little bit faster as Victor’s hand left his wrist to turn the handle and push the door open.

                He stayed in the hallway and gawped at the sight before him; the suite was probably the same size as his bedroom back in Hasetsu, Victor’s room, his parents’ and his sister Mari’s PLUS the communal room combined! The floor was covered by a thick cream-coloured carpet, the kind that invited Yuuri to take his shoes and socks off just to curl his toes into it. The walls were a soft magnolia, the skirtings painted gold. There was a small dining area with mini fridge, coffee maker and breakfast table, set for two. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket, along with two flutes, on top of the table, a rose in a tiny vase next to it.

                Yuuri quickly glanced over that, praying that the room was always set up this way, and that there hadn’t been any assumptions made by the hotel staff.

                _Calm down,_ he scolded himself, _no one knew you were going to be here tonight with Victor; of course this is how they set this room up!_

But he still hoped that Victor wouldn’t make a big deal about it as he continued to gaze at the room. At one end of the suite was a huge flat screen tv fastened to the wall, a DVD player on a stand directly below it. An enormous, squishy-looking sofa faced the tv, its swirling patterned fabric of gold and terracotta complimented its surroundings. There was a large bay window, overlooking the night-time cityscape, another smaller sofa in front of it. Yuuri remembered his mother wanting a similar sofa for her bedroom a few years ago, when she’d gone through a phase for interior design.

                A “cuddle couch”, she’d called it.

                Yuuri gulped again. If he kept swallowing like this, Victor was going to notice for sure!

                But he couldn’t help but gulp again when his eyes finally rested on the one piece of furniture he’d been trying desperately to avoid; the bed.

                The largest bed Yuuri had ever seen! Four cedar posts with a canopy, made of gossamer-white silk that was almost completely transparent; underneath what looked like a nest of different sized cushions and pillows, all pale gold or snow white, Yuuri could see that the mattress must have been the same width as a small swimming pool, and as deep as koi pond. It looked like it could sleep his entire family easily, and still have space between each person!

                Of course, there would only be two people in it…

                Victor seemed to follow Yuuri’s gaze and fought the urge to laugh at the way Yuuri’s eyes seemed to have doubled in size, unblinking. He was pretty sure Yuuri was trembling, but he couldn’t quite tell under that hideously thick brown coat and overly-large scarf.

                “This room expects sex.” Yuuri remembered a quote from one of his favourite American sitcoms. He just didn’t realise that he’d said it out loud. Until it was too late.

                Victor threw his head back with a loud laugh. Yuuri blushed beetroot and started to stammer a panicky apology, but Victor ignored him as he stepped close enough to lean over him, his face an inch away from the terrified Japanese man’s.

                “Why, Yuuri,” Victor purred in a low voice that made Yuuri’s skin itch, “If winning silver’s made you this bold, lucky for me you didn’t get the gold medal.”

                Victor knew he was being mean, teasing Yuuri like this, especially when he knew the younger man had always been so closed off and insecure when it came to anything remotely romantic or sexual, but he just couldn’t help himself; Yuuri looked so _adorable_ when he was flustered.

                It had been the same when Victor had assigned him “Eros” for his Short Programme. His deep brown had almost shot out of his head, mouth agape with a silent scream, a single drop of sweat forming on his temple. Yuuri had pleaded to be given “Agape” – it was more his style, something elegant and pure.

                But Victor had wanted to push Yuuri (and the other Yuri, little “Yurio” Plisestsky) out of his comfort zone; the video of him performing Victor’s gold-medal routine had made Yuuri an online sensation, and Victor had wanted him to repeat that level of excellence to a routine of his own. A routine that would show the world – Yuuri included – that he was more than just a dime-a-dozen skater, more than just a Victor Nikiforov wannabe; that he was Yuuri Katsuki, the star.

                Of course, it had been a challenge, bigger than Victor had anticipated. Yuuri had been so closed off, with no sense of sexuality, that he’d had to imagine his favourite food just to express “Eros”! Victor had had his doubts at that point, thinking he’d bitten off more than he could chew; how was he supposed to teach a twenty-three-year-old man how to be sensual? Surely Yuuri should have learned that himself when he was a teenager?

                It wasn’t until Yuuri’s best friend, a sweet woman called Yuuko, had explained that, growing up, Yuuri had focused so much on skating and the freedom that came with it, that he’d pushed all other emotions so deep inside of himself that he couldn’t deal with them properly, that Victor had understood; of course, his anxiety didn’t help, but Yuuri had always found it easier to just skate than to deal with his feelings. So Victor took it upon himself to transform the shy little piggy into a confident Prince; if imagining Katsudon accomplished that, so be it.

                But when Yuuri had performed “Eros” that very first time in the “Hot Springs on Ice” event, Victor had been blown away. His fluid movements, the way his dark eyes burned under the spotlights…it was like there had been no one else at the rink. Just Yuuri and Victor.

                And the more Yuuri performed “Eros”, the more Victor saw him come out of his shell. The Katsudon was slowly being replaced by something else, Victor just couldn’t put his finger on what it was yet. And it was the same thing with Yuuri’s Free Skate programme; “Yuri On Ice” reflected Yuuri’s career before and after Victor became his coach, and Victor had always been proud of how Yuuri poured his heart and soul into the choreography, even when he fluffed his jumps or fell on his face.

                But tonight, when Yuuri had executed that incredible quad flip, something snapped inside of Victor. Something he hadn’t even realised was inside him. It was like these emotions were trapped inside of him and Yuuri had broke the dam, and they had all poured out of him.

                In the form of a kiss.

                If Victor was honest with himself, he was just as surprised at his actions as Yuuri had been. He had had no idea what possessed him to do something as bold as that, especially in public. Sure, he was a naturally tactile person and loved nothing more than hugging everyone (especially his beloved puppy, Makkachin) so he simply put the kiss down to it being just an extension of his touchy-feely personality.

                Of course, it was amusing to see how awkward it made Yuuri act. How he’d always blush and stammer, his voice going all squeaky. How he’d always push Victor away until he was at arm’s length, only to squeak timidly when he realised that his hands were pressing on Victor’s chest, and he’d pull his hands away like they would melt if he kept touching him. And then he’d practically trip over his feet to get away, either to hide in his room or push himself to the other side of the rink. It was all so… adorable.

                Victor smiled as he looked down at Yuuri, who was still standing frozen in the hallway.

                ‘Okay,’ he thought to himself, ‘that’s enough for now.’

                He winked at Yuuri and flashed his famous heart-shaped smile, chuckling warmly. Yuuri seemed to relax a little and chuckled too, clearly relieved that the teasing had stopped.

                “Would you like me to carry you over the threshold?” he asked sweetly. One more moment of teasing, and then he’d stop. Probably.

                Yuuri’s grew wide again. “Wait – what?!”

                “Well, it _is_ the Honeymoon Suite.” Victor shrugged innocently.

                “I-I… I don’t need to be carried-”

                “Okay. Then you carry me!”

                Before Yuuri could protest, Victor lunged at him, arms outstretched, grinning. And not for the first time that night, Yuuri found himself on his back, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of Victor’s chest pressed against his.

                Only this time, there was no kiss.

                Victor pushed himself onto his hands and pouted sulkily. “Well, that wasn’t very romantic!”

                “Umm… Sorry?” Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say. He was still in shock that Victor had jumped on him again.

                But why was a voice in his head complaining that there was no kiss this time??

                Victor just smirked as he stood up, grabbed his suitcase and finally stepped inside the suite, practically stepping over Yuuri as he did so. Yuuri scrambled to his feet and followed suit, closing the door behind them.

                He couldn’t bring himself to turn around for a moment, the realisation that he was alone in the Honeymoon Suite with Victor hitting him hard. He needed a second to take a deep breath and try to compose his face into something that didn’t look like he was about to have a heart attack.

                He focused on removing his coat, hat and scarf to hook them on the coat rack provided. The simple movements helped him to focus on his breathing as he told himself to calm down.

                _It’s just a room,_ he told himself firmly, _you’re going to have a shower, go to sleep and, in the morning, everything will still be the same. Victor will still be Victor, your coach. You’re going to go home tomorrow and everything will be normal._

Feeling a little calmer, he turned around. Victor had thrown himself onto the bed, still wearing his jacket, sighing dramatically as he sank amongst the cushions.

                “Oh, Yuuri! This is sooo comfy! It’s like a cloud!” Victor beamed, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. Victor was like a child sometimes, easily excited and just as easily pleased.

                Victor held his hand out to Yuuri, inviting him to join him.

                Yuuri felt his composure shift again. He quickly began to rummage through his suitcase until he found his washbag.

                “I… I’m going to grab a shower.” He said quickly as headed for the door that he hoped led to the en-suite bathroom.

                “Wouldn’t a bath be better for your muscles?” Victor asked, his face almost like a mask as he slipped into what Yuuri called “coach-mode”, all serious and cool. “You did fall over a couple of times.”

                Yuuri was never sure how he felt when Victor went into “coach-mode”; it seemed so unlike him, suddenly professional and impersonal. Victor could never really be described as either.

                “It’s late, and I’m tired,” Yuuri tried to keep his voice flat.

                Victor smirked. “Oh. And there was me thinking you were just in a hurry to get into bed.”

                He flashed his perfect teeth as he grinned, knowing what Yuuri was thinking by the way the colour drained from his face. How he’d deliberately left the sentence unfinished, wanting to see if Yuuri would finish it for him.

                _And there was me thinking you were just in a hurry to get into bed…with me._

                Victor shifted his weight slightly so that he was leaning on his side, his head resting on his upturned palm, his other hand drawing idle patterns on the soft duvet. His lips curled into a lazy smile and he deliberately fluttered his long eyelashes, ever so slowly. His stomach was flipping as he watched Yuuri gawp at him, now visibly trembling under the weight of his gaze.

                He couldn’t figure out why, but Victor just couldn’t for the life of him stop teasing Yuuri.

                Yuuri opened his mouth, but whatever he was planning to say died on his lips when a loud beep made him jump.

                _Beep beep. Buzz. Beep beep._

He scrambled in his pocket and fished out his phone. The caller photo showed an angry blonde teenager scowling at the camera.

                “It’s Yurio.” Yuuri said, breathing a sigh of relief.

                ‘Perfect timing,’ he thought happily.

                Victor beamed excitedly. “Goody! Put him on loudspeaker!” he chirped as he bounced – literally, bounced! – on the bed until his feet swung to the floor. His brilliant blue eyes sparkled at Yuuri, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of how Makkachin used the same expression when he wanted a steamed bun.

                And just like with Makkachin, he relented to Victor’s request and tapped the speaker icon before he swiped left to answer the call.

                “H-hey Yurio - ”

                “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT TODAY, YOU FUCKING PIG?!” Yurio’s already-loud voice filled the room to the point where Yuuri thought the walls were vibrating. He held his phone at arm’s length, slightly scared of the skinny Russian teenager, even if he was halfway around the world.

                “Umm… Wh-what do you - ”

                “DON’T PLAY DUMB WITH ME, ASSHOLE! THAT FUCKING QUAD FLIP!”

                “Yurio!” Victor chimed in, his voice light and joyous, “Did you call to congratulate Yuuri on his silver medal?”

                Yurio snarled at the mention of his loathed nickname. “You got me on speakerphone, Katsudon? What – you too chickenshit to talk to me on your own?”

                “Now, now, Yurio,” Victor scolded, the light lilt in his voice becoming patronising, “That doesn’t sound very “Agape” to me.”

                “Fuck you, old geezer!”

                “Um, Yurio?” Yuuri spluttered, thinking he’d better try to stop the oncoming slanging match, “Why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be with Yakov and Lilia?”

                Beijing was only five hours ahead of St Petersburg, so it wasn’t late enough to suggest the teenager call him in the morning.

                “Bah! Those two old codgers have been squawking at each other ever since your Free Skate,” Yurio muttered darkly, “I think they want me to change my jump combinations – fat chance of that!”

                “They’re not pushing you too hard, are they?” Yuuri asked, frowning. Yes, Yuri Plisestsky was one of the best skaters in the Seniors division, but he was still only fifteen, and Yuuri didn’t like the idea of the young lad being stretched to his limit.

                “Why? Scared I’m going to kick your ass in Moscow, little piggy?” Yuuri could practically hear the smirk on Yurio’s face.

                “Yurio,” Victor drawled, “Play nice.”

                “I thought I told you to fuck off, Nikiforov!”

                “I hope you trim your claws before we come to Moscow, little kitten.” Victor winked at Yuuri as he teased Yurio and laughed at the furious string of Russian expletives that followed.

                “TAKE ME OFF SPEAKERPHONE, ASSHOLE!”

                Yuuri quickly tapped his phone again, his hand trembling slightly. He stepped towards the bay window, keeping his gaze glued to the nightscape rather than the reflection of Victor giggling as he began to take his jacket off.

                “Hey,” Yurio’s voice sounded smaller, almost like he was trying to talk through clenched teeth, “Seriously, that flip…was pretty cool.”

                Yuuri choked on fresh air.

                “For a fucking fat little piggy!” Yurio hurriedly added, as if he could see the Japanese man who dared to have the same name as himself blush.

                Yuuri smiled and relaxed; this was the Yurio he was comfortable with – the cocky, rude teenager who loved to put him down.

                “High praise indeed!” Yuuri grinned as sarcasm coated his words. He cast a quick glance at Victor; the Russian beamed and winked his approval of the heated comment.

                “Fuck you, Katsudon! Adding one shitty quad flip to your roster isn’t going to stop me from turning you into piroshky in Moscow!”

                “Hmmm…” Yuuri pondered, still smiling at the image of a blustering Yurio, “I’ve never had piroshky. Is it any good?”

                Yurio made a sound like a strangled cat. “You – you’ve never had piroshky?!”

                “Did you ever have Katsudon before you came to Hasetsu?” Yuuri quipped. This shut Yurio up for a moment – touché – before he changed the subject.

                “So what the hell possessed you to put in a quad flip right at the end?”

                Yuuri paused for a moment; why _did_ he put in the quad flip? At the time, he’d just wanted to surprise Victor, prove he was capable of surpassing Victor’s wildest imagination, but was that the only reason?

                “I… I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it.” His voice sounded neutral; he might as well have been discussing the weather, not the greatest thing he’d ever done in his career.

                “Pfft! Well, you still landed on your ass, so clearly not!”

                Yuuri smiled a little. He knew that, for all the cursing and put-downs, Yurio did seem to care about him. He just didn’t show it the same way as other people. And he did have a point; he had managed to get enough rotations in, but he had landed wrong and ended up falling. He absentmindedly rubbed the top of his thigh; it definitely felt like there was a bruise developing.

                “Did you see the look on Victor’s stupid face?” Yurio’s snigger caught Yuuri’s attention.

                “Umm… I actually haven’t had a chance to check any of my channels yet.” Yuuri scratched the back of his head nervously. He had several newsfeeds and official websites saved to his phone and he’d been planning on passing the time on the flight home by checking them all for reviews and footage.

                Yurio barked a cold laugh. “Aw, man, it was priceless! I could have walked up to him and bitch-slapped him with my skate and he probably wouldn’t have blinked!”

                “What?!”

                His phone beeped in his ear.

                “I sent you a link – see for yourself.”

                Yuuri brought his phone from his ear and tapped the message. His hand shot to his mouth as he supressed a laugh.

                It was a photo of Victor. His hands were fastened to the sides of his face, almost tugging at his hair. His eyes were the size of saucers and his mouth was gaping open in utter shock.

                It was the funniest expression he’d ever seen on Victor’s face.

                He laughed quietly as he brought his phone back to his ear, hearing Yurio chuckle as well. He guessed it was one thing they had in common; they both enjoyed surprising Victor.

                “See what I mean?”

                “Yeah. That was kind of funny.”

                “Well, it was…” Yurio’s mood darkened very quickly, “Until that bit at the end.”

                Yuuri’s heart thumped a bit harder. He quickly glanced over at Victor, making sure he wasn’t standing right behind him. Thankfully he was on the other side of the room, taking his clothes from his designer suitcase and hanging them in the overly-large wardrobe, his back to Yuuri.

                “Umm… y-y-you mean…?”

                “That part where you and Victor sucked face in front of everyone? Yeah, that bit!” Yurio quipped, disgust dripping off his tongue.

                Yuuri thought his heart was jump out of his chest. A thin line of sweat was forming on his brow.

                _Crap!_ He thought to himself. _If Yurio saw it, then the whole world saw it! My parents. Mari. Oh god – Minako won’t let me hear the end of this!_

                Victor turned around just in time to see the panic etch onto Yuuri’s face. His face dropped and he quickly made his way over to Yuuri and placed his hand on his shoulder.

                “What is it?” he asked, frowning, “What’s the matter?”

                Yuuri twisted himself out of Victor’s grip and backed away, clutching his phone to his ear like a comfort blanket. He turned back to face the window, trying to avoid the flash of concern in Victor’s eyes.

                “How… how bad did it look?” he asked Yurio, his voice edged with desperation.

                “Well…” Yurio paused, choosing his words carefully for once, “You looked like a fucking rabbit caught in headlights. And Victor looked like the old pervert I’d always pegged him for.”

                _Oh god. It’s bad. Very very bad!_

Yurio must have heard the choked sound that slid out of his throat, because his tone changed again.

                “You alright there, Katsudon?”

                Victor was still trying to get his attention. Yurio was showing concern for the first time ever.

                Yuuri couldn’t handle this.

                His phone slid out of his grip as he clamped his hands over his mouth, holding in the panicked sob that threatened to pop out his chest. His lungs were heaving, struggling for air. His vision blurred under his glasses as hot tears began to clutch at his eyelashes.

                “Yuuri!” Victor cried out as he caught the smaller man just in time as he slumped to the floor, breaking his fall a little as he hit his knees. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri and was shocked at how hard he was shaking.

                He picked up Yuuri’s phone.

                “What the hell did you say to Yuuri?” he snapped in Russian.

                “Nothing!” Yurio snapped back.

                “Don’t give me that, Plisetsky! Yuuri’s having a fucking panic attack! What – did – you – say?!”

                Yurio gulped. “I only mentioned your stupid kiss, asshole. I thought he knew that it was being filmed! I mean, it was at the fucking Kiss & Cry, for god’s sake!”

                Victor felt a cold lump form in the pit of his stomach. He looked at Yuuri and his heart wrenched as he saw him sobbing uncontrollably. He held onto him a little bit tighter, rubbing his free hand up and down Yuuri’s arm in what he hoped was a soothing motion. He’d never been good around crying people.

                He hadn’t thought about the fallout of his kiss. He hadn’t thought of anything beyond that moment. And now poor Yuuri was suffering because of his recklessness.

                “I’ll take care of this,” he said firmly, “Goodnight, Yurio.”

                “Hey!” Yurio said quickly, his voice a little higher than normal. “Tell… tell Katsudon I’m sorry, okay?”

                Victor smirked coldly. “Why, Yurio. I didn’t know you cared.”

                “Fuck off, Victor! I’m a punk, not a total prick!”

                Victor smirked again. “Not much of a difference. But I’ll tell him.”

                And with that, he ended the call.

                He placed the phone on the sofa next to him and turned fully to Yuuri. He wrapped both arms around him, hating the feel of Yuuri shaking next to his chest.

                “V-V-Victor…he-he said…”

                Victor shushed him soothingly, rubbing his hands in circular motions on Yuuri’s back. “I know. I know.”

                “M-my mum… My d-d-dad… _oh god, Victor_!” Yuuri collapsed onto Victor, burying his head in his shoulder as fresh sobs engulfed his chest.

                Victor’s heart was hammering in his ears. He didn’t know what he could possibly say that could make this better. In one stupid moment of impulsiveness, he had managed to destroy all of Yuuri’s hard work; the confident “Eros” was shrinking back into the anxious shell that it had been born from. And it was all Victor’s fault.

                Suddenly, Yuuri stood up, surprising Victor. He looked up at the young man, and his heart broke. Yuuri’s face was twisted as he fought to swallow down more sobs, his eyes glassy, cheeks blotchy. His fists were clenched at his sides, like he was struggling to hold himself upright.

                Just as suddenly as he had stood up, Yuuri walked away from Victor.

                “Where are you going?” Victor asked, still kneeling in front of the window.

                “Shower.” Yuuri didn’t even look over his shoulder as he answered numbly. He just grabbed his wash bag and walked straight to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

                And with that, Victor was alone.

                Sighing, he picked himself up and sank into the small sofa, staring at the nightscape. Or rather, his eyes glazed over the lights and buildings as he sank into his thoughts. Thousands of lights glared at him, neon eyes accusing him of destroying a young man’s reputation. He quickly shut the thick curtains, shutting out the world, and flopped back onto the cuddle couch. He ran his hands through his hair, locking his fingers together at the back of his head.

                “Nice one, Nikiforov!” he scolded himself. He vaguely registered the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

                How the _hell_ was he going to fix this??

                Before Yuuri had performed his Free Skate, Victor had offered to resign as his coach, hoping the shock would snap Yuuri out of his anxiety. But instead it had heightened it and the young man had wept in front of him, begging him not to leave him.

                _“Just be there and have more faith in me than I do!”_

Those words rang in Victor’s ears and had spoke to his heart. He had realised that he didn’t need empty gestures or unnecessary threats to inspire his student; Yuuri was the embodiment of inspiration, he just needed someone else to see it for him.

                Maybe that was another reason why Victor had kissed him. Maybe Yuuri had inspired him to act on his emotions, to express himself in a way that words just couldn’t do on their own.

                Perhaps if he had taken just a few seconds, a deep breath, to think things through, Yuuri wouldn’t now be in the shower crying. If he had just hugged him, like he always did, Yuuri wouldn’t be worrying about what his parents now thought of him. If he even waited to kiss his silver medal (even though he had said he’d only kiss gold), Yuuri would have been laughing at Yurio’s jealous tirade rather than being mortified at the teenager’s vicious verbal assault.

                But he hadn’t. Instead, he did what he always did and jumped in head-first.

                Head-first into Yuuri’s arms.

                Groaning quietly to himself, he reached down and loosened his tie and top button, suddenly feeling strangled. One way or another, he knew he had a responsibility to Yuuri to fix this; he was his coach, it was his job to solve problems like this. The question was how.

                He wished he had Makkachin with him. Whenever things got too much for him, he liked to sound out his problems to his poodle. He wasn’t insane, he knew Makkachin would never answer him, but he was always able to keep talking and talking until he managed to work his worries out. It was a lot cheaper than a therapist, and all Makkachin asked for in return were belly rubs and food.

                Instead he had to settle for the Makkachin-shaped tissue box in his suitcase. He padded over to the wardrobe again and unzipped his suitcase, reaching for the box. It was cuddly, just not as cuddly as his puppy. He clutched it to his chest and moved to sit on the bed, his eyes darting to the bathroom door.

                He knew Yuuri had always suffered with anxiety. He knew he was prone to crying and being his own worst critic. But he wouldn’t… hurt himself…would he?

                He jumped up, dropping the tissue box on the bed. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he hesitated. He was doing it again – acting on his first impulse. Jumping to conclusions without thinking.

                And Yuuri would definitely _not_ appreciate him barging in on him in the shower!

                So he took a cleansing breath and went back to the wardrobe, planning on changing out his suit into something more comfortable.

                ‘In another context, that would have sounded wrong!” he smirked for a second before scolding himself again. He must have spent way too much time last season hanging around with Chris – it was too easy to turn everything into a double entendre today!

                He hung his shirt and trousers in the wardrobe and rummaged through his suitcase, frowning. He hadn’t packed for an additional night, expecting to be back at Yutopia by now, soaking in the onsen and eating Katsudon. All his clothes were in his room at the onsen; all he had with him was underwear.

                He usually slept naked. Yuuri was used to this by now, having lived with him in Hasetsu for several months now. Even when they shared hotel rooms during competitions, Victor still slept in the nude. That had taken Yuuri a little longer to adjust to, much to Victor’s amusement.

                But tonight, he found himself smacking his forehead with the heel of his palm. Yuuri and he would be in the same bed! He couldn’t possibly sleep naked tonight! Especially after Yuuri’s meltdown!

                ‘I guess my briefs will have to survive another night,’ he thought.

                He caught his reflection in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. His black briefs left little to the imagination, clinging to the top of his thighs and butt like a second skin. Maybe Yuuri had a spare t shirt that he could borrow to sleep in; at least then his stomach and chest would be covered, sparing both of them any more awkwardness.

                ‘Borrowing another guy’s t shirt – what am I, his girlfriend?’

                He balked at that thought. He remembered the conversation he’d had with Yuuri on the beach at Hasetsu. He’d asked Yuuri what he had expected their relationship to be: father/son? Brothers? Lovers? Yuuri had gotten embarrassed (as always!) and had simply stated that he wanted Victor to be himself.

                That had surprised Victor. No one had ever asked him to be himself before; throughout his career he had been numerous characters to perform a role, on and off the ice. He had been Victor the skater, the icon, the legend. He could probably count on his hands the amount of times he had simply been Victor Nikiforov. And almost all of them had been with Yuuri and his family.

                He liked that he didn’t have to put on an act with Yuuri. He could speak his mind without fear of repercussions, whether that was to praise Yuuri or patronise him about his weight. He could openly laugh and relax. He could shower Yuuri with affection, be that hugs or ruffling his thick hair or constantly taking selfies at awkward or mundane moments, something that would ordinarily have been frowned upon by his peers. But Yuuri always made him feel at peace.

                Now he needed to return the favour.

                He snatched a fluffy white bathrobe from the wardrobe. At least he would be covered up when Yuuri came out of the bathroom.

                One way or another, he would make this right. He had to.

                That was the only way left for him to show his love.

***

 

                Yuuri shut off the water. He had no idea how long he’d been stood under the pulsing hot water. All he knew were sensations; the way his lungs burned as he sobbed, how his legs wobbled as he struggled to keep himself upright, the feeling as the water mixed with the tears on his cheeks.

                He had felt dirty, no matter how hard he had scrubbed his skin and hair. Yurio’s call had brought it home to him how much of a spectacle he had been tonight. Instead of celebrating his first medal in god knows how long, he knew his family back home would be discussing his kiss with Victor.

                _You mean Victor’s kiss with you,_ a small, mean voice corrected him. _You didn’t kiss him back, did you? This is all Victor’s fault._

He shook his head as he stepped out of the shower, wincing as the bruises on his legs and feet stretched with every movement. As easy as it could be to put all the blame squarely on Victor’s shoulders, he wasn’t that type of person. He wanted to reassure Victor that, even if Yurio and the rest of the world thought he was some “old pervert”, Yuuri didn’t.

                That question was, how did he feel about the kiss? He found himself asking that question for the millionth time that night, and it was beginning to give him a headache.

                He was surprised that it had happened. He was mortified that his parents had witnessed it, even if it was from thousands of miles away. He was humiliated that Yurio had thought it was disgusting.

                But he was also a tiny bit pleased. Pleased that his Free Skate had been so good it had evoked such a strong reaction from his coach. From someone he had admired for nearly his whole life. He valued Victor’s opinion more than anything, so surely the kiss was simply his way of expressing that. He was pleased that he really had surpassed Victor’s imagination and had proven that he was worthy of being coached by him.

                And… he was pleased that it had happened.

                Before he realised what he was doing, he found himself tracing a finger over his lips, trying to recall the sensation of Victor’s lips on them. He closed his eyes, remembering how his heart had stopped for a beat, how his brain had gone fuzzy, how his breath had hitched in his chest.

                He remembered the smell of Victor’s expensive cologne. He remembered the soft brush of Egyptian cotton, silk and brushed leather against his skin as Victor wrapped his arms around him. He remembered the sound of Victor sighing against his lips as he smiled down at him.

                _“I wanted to surprise you more than you surprised me.”_

                He smiled softly to himself, those words warming him like a favourite sweater. Victor had made it his mission throughout his career to surprise his audience, but this was something so much more personal. Intimate, despite the very public setting.

                He was still upset that he knew they were probably being judged by the world, even as he stood there, and a part of him dreaded getting his phone back, reading the comments online and messages from family and friends. He was still embarrassed, but, now that he’d gotten his tears out of the way, he was filled with a steely resolution.

                Whatever the world said, he still wanted Victor to be his coach. He still wanted to win the gold medal at the Grand Prix Final. He wanted to show the world that he loved his career. That he loved his coach. That he loved Victor.

                Love.

                That was still a surreal concept to Yuuri. He remembered his embarrassing ramble at the start of the season, when he’d revealed his theme as “Love”. His only salvation was that, at the time, Victor barely understood Japanese so he hadn’t paid much attention to Yuuri’s god-awful statement.

                Of course Mari, being the oh-so-dutiful big sister, had sent Victor a link to a translation app. By the time Yuuri had returned home from the press conference, Victor had re-watched his statement with both English and Russian subtitles (just to be a hundred percent sure that he’d understood) and had leapt at Yuuri, his heart-shaped mouth set in a beaming smile, gushing about how cute Yuuri was to base his season’s theme on him.

                He had tried to protest, but Makkachin had then joined in the “game” and Yuuri had found himself at the bottom of a ridiculous dogpile, struggling to breathe. He had managed to glare at his sister though, who had simply shrugged and smirked, her cigarette dangling from her lips.

                He wiped the mirror with a towel until he could see his reflection. He stared up and down his body. Even without his glasses, he knew where every stretchmark on his stomach and thighs was, and grimaced. He hated how he couldn’t control his weight, and every silver scar was linked to every Katsudon he’d ever eaten and every mile he had run to burn it off. They made him feel ugly.

                Victor must have seen them by now. They had used his family’s onsen together several times. But he had never commented on them. He had teased him about his soft middle and pudgy belly, especially when he’d first arrived at Hasetsu, but he’d never said a thing about the marks.

                Maybe he knew he would be too sensitive about them. Maybe he saw the hard work he had done to get back into shape.

                Maybe he hadn’t cared about them.

                That thought made Yuuri feel better; if a handsome, perfectly built athlete like Victor didn’t care about his flaws, then maybe they weren’t as bad as he thought.

                His thoughts jarred for a moment. Handsome? Perfect?

                He’d always looked up to Victor as some sort of unreachable god, had placed him on a pedestal for several years, until Yuuri had convinced himself that he would never be worthy of Victor’s acknowledgement, let alone his time. So the “fan” side of him did think Victor was perfect.

                But after tonight, Yuuri felt confused. Was he attracted to Victor?

                He felt a blush rise in his cheeks as he remembered every single time he had seen Victor naked, every hug he had given him. How they all looked exactly the same as they’d always had in his mind but felt totally different now since the kiss.

                His eyes continued to walk down his reflection, taking in the purple blotches on his thigh and feet from where he’d fallen on the ice and the tightness of his skates. They seemed too dark against his skin.

                The thought crossed his mind that his skin was pale, but not as pale as the snow-white flesh on Victor’s chest…

                Now he knew his blush had spread down his neck! He shook his head violently, as if trying to shake the image from behind his eyes.

                He wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist, surprised that it was so big it circled his waist twice and could still be firmly tucked in, pushing his wet hair from his face. He knew he had to leave the bathroom at some point and that he would have to talk to Victor about what to do next.

                He scooped up his clothes and his glasses, opting to leave them off until he got out of the steam-filled room. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the doorknob.

                ‘Time to address the elephant in the room.’ He thought.

***

                Yuuri wished he’d never left the bathroom.

                Victor wished Yuuri had never come out of the shower.

                Yuuri hadn’t been prepared to find Victor sitting on that enormous bed in nothing but a bathrobe and (he hoped with all his might!) his underwear, a forlorn look on his face.

                Victor hadn’t been ready for Yuuri to be wearing nothing but a towel, his hair slicked back, beads of water still trickling down his slender neck, his eyes wide in horror.

                “Umm…”

                “Oh! Err….”

                “ **WE NEED TO TALK**!”

                Both men gasped as they shouted at the exact same time. They stared at each other for a moment, blinking. Sapphire blue met chocolate brown.

                Then they both laughed. Not a nervous giggle, a hearty I’m-so-glad-we’re-on-the-same-page chuckle.

                Yuuri walked past Victor and went over to the larger sofa in front of the flat screen tv. He smirked a little to himself, fully aware that Victor was staring at him.

                ‘I’ve been around Victor for too long,’ he thought slyly, ‘it’s getting too easy to channel “Eros”.’

                He waited for a few seconds until he heard Victor pad over the thick carpet to him. He smiled up at him as he sat down next to him, grateful that he’d left a whole seat cushion between them.

                Victor twiddled his thumbs nervously. “Crazy day, huh?”

                Yuuri laughed. “That’s one way to describe it!”

                Victor’s smile was tight and thin. Yuuri thought it aged him a little. He didn’t like that.

                “Listen, Yuuri…” Victor started, his voice trembling slightly, “About that kiss… I didn’t mean for it - ”

                “Don’t.” Yuuri interrupted, placing his hand firmly on Victor’s shoulder. “Don’t apologise, please.”

                Victor stared from Yuuri’s hand on his shoulder back to the hard glint in Yuuri’s eyes and struggled to say anything for a minute. “B-but…what Yurio said…”

                “No matter how much he curses and throws his weight around, Yurio’s still a kid. Of course he was going to say it was gross or whatever.”

                “He said it was gross?” Victor’s eyes went a little watery.

                Yuuri shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Victor.”

                “But there’s still your family!” Victor’s voice was getting higher, shakier. Yuuri moved his hand from his shoulder to his forearm, gripping it a bit tighter.

                “I know I freaked out before, and I’m sorry. Truth is, my mum and dad probably thought it was funny. Hell, they might actually think that that’s _why_ it’s called the Kiss & Cry!”

                Victor laughed at that. Yuuri certainly took after his sweet, innocent parents.

                “Still, I am your coach. What I did was unprofessional and there’ll be a lot of questions to answer.”

                “Then we’ll answer them together.” Yuuri said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

                Victor stared hard at Yuuri, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. “Together?” he almost didn’t hear his own voice.

                He saw Yuuri swallow a lump in his own throat. “We’re still a team, right? I mean, you are still my coach, right?”

                “Of course! Of course I am! Yuuri, I’m not going to quit being your coach. I promised you that I wouldn’t!”

                Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief, a coy smile tugging the corners of his mouth. Victor returned the smile, feeling a warmth spread from the touch of Yuuri’s hand on his arm.

                “Victor, c-can I ask you something?” Yuuri removed his hand (much to Victor’s disappointment) and locked his fingers together, his elbows resting on his knees.

                “Anything.”

                Yuuri kept his gaze on his locked fingers, willing them not to shake. “Why did you kiss me?”

                Victor’s heart stopped. “I…I told you - ”

                “Yeah, yeah, you wanted to surprise me, blah blah blah,” Victor had never heard Yuuri sound so blasé before, “Tell me the real reason. Please.”

                Victor glanced around the room, looking like he was hoping for some sort of answer to be within arm’s reach, like it was something tangible.

                “Because… because I wanted to.”

                He didn’t know what else to say. He’d spent the entire night trying to answer that question himself, but he’d not been able to find a better answer.

                He had kissed Yuuri simply because he wanted to kiss Yuuri.

                Victor licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling parched. “Is-is that okay?”

                It felt like an eternity to Victor as he sat there, waiting for Yuuri to answer him. He watched as the man sat next to him drew a deep breath and ran a hand through his raven-black hair. As he slowly turned his head to return his gaze, the brown of his irises seeming to become swirled with a golden hue in the soft lighting.

                Victor didn’t even realise until it was almost too late.

                All of a sudden, Yuuri had closed the gap between them, leaning over until his face was less than an inch from his own.

                Yuuri’s breath ghosted on his face. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

                Yuuri pressed his lips to Victor’s and stole the breath from the Russian’s chest. The tiniest amount of pressure was gentle, unsure, waiting. When Victor sighed, Yuuri took that as a sign and he slid across the sofa until he could feel the outline of Victor’s body next to his. He caught Victor’s bottom lip between his lips and tugged ever so lightly, tasting the expensive lip balm.

                Victor thought he was going to pass out. His heart was pounding so fast it made his body vibrate. His breath was coming out in tiny hiccup-like gasps as Yuuri kept pressing his mouth to his. There was no dominance or hunger, just the sweet presence of Yuuri kissing him.

                He started to reach out to Yuuri, but he stopped himself. Yuuri was only wearing a towel. He only had a bathrobe on. He’d damaged Yuuri enough with his impulsiveness for one night.

                Yuuri must have sensed his hesitation. He pulled away from Victor just enough to gaze deep into Victor’s eyes. Something was awakening inside of him, something he’d never known before. He didn’t know what to call it. All he knew was that it included Victor. And that was enough for now.

                He reached up to brush Victor’s hair from in front of his eyes, just like he had wanted to after his Free Skate. He smiled as he saw Victor’s lashes flutter at his touch, a dusting of pink blooming on his cheeks.

                “It’s okay, Victor.” He whispered again.

                Victor grabbed Yuuri’s arms and pulled him that last inch until he was pressed against his chest, claiming his lips in a desperate kiss. Heat burned inside him as he heard Yuuri gasp against his mouth. Yuuri twisted his arms free from Victor’s grip to wrap them around his neck, sliding one hand into his silver hair, deepening the kiss. Victor moaned softly and ran his hand over Yuuri’s spine, splaying his fingers over the firm skin.

                Yuuri slid his tongue into Victor’s mouth when he moaned, slowly and gently. Victor happily accepted it, rolling his tongue over Yuuri’s until it was like they were dancing against his lips. Still there was no fight for dominance; it was a gentle exploration, a search for something that neither could explain.

                “Yuuri,” Victor sighed against the smaller man’s mouth as he felt the tiny trace of fingertips playing over his chest, setting his skin on fire.

                “Victor,” Yuuri felt dizzy as he moaned. He felt Victor keep his hands above his waist. It was starting to frustrate him.

                He moved to straddle Victor’s waist and he heard Victor gasp something in Russian, his voice breathy and startled. Yuuri felt a wicked grin spread across his face.

                “Is this okay… Vitya?” he whispered against Victor’s neck as he pressed his lips to the throbbing vein.

                Victor’s eyes blew wide and he cried out Yuuri’s name again, balling his fists behind Yuuri’s back.

                “Yuuri… I – I can’t…”

                Yuuri sat up, frowning. He rested his hands on Victor’s shoulders lightly, gazing down at the perplexed look in Victor’s wide eyes.

               “You can’t?”

                Victor hated the confused look in Yuuri’s eyes. He reached up to cup Yuuri’s cheek, stroking his thumb against the heated skin.

                “I want to – _God I really want to!_ But… I can’t put you in this position. You’ve gone through so much in just one night, I can’t add to that. It would be selfish.”

                Yuuri frowned a little bit more, leaning into Victor’s palm. He turned his head to plant a kiss on his wrist.

                “So…you want to?”

                Victor swallowed thickly as Yuuri’s heated gaze travelled down him, from his eyes to his chest, down to the knotted tie around his waist that was keeping his bathrobe closed. He thought he was going to melt under that gaze.

                “Yuuri…” Victor tried to form a coherent sentence, but his tongue refused to cooperate.

                ‘So this is how Yuuri felt every time I teased him!’ he thought with a gulp.

                Yuuri grinned wickedly again as Victor stammered. He’d never felt like this before. A part of him was screaming the fact that he was _totally naked and on top of Victor Nikiforov_!! That same part was blushing at the knowledge that Victor was _clearly_ very happy for him to be there. But a larger part of him was thriving on the situation; it vaguely reminded him of his “Eros” programme. He liked how in control and yet totally powerless he felt in Victor’s lap, gazing down at the man he had idolised for so long and seeing that same man return his flushed expression. He remembered how Yurio had said he’d looked like a rabbit caught in headlights when Victor kissed him. Now he felt like a wolf cornering a rabbit.

                “I seem to recall someone asking me to seduce him with everything I’ve got,” Yuuri teased, revelling in how Victor’s eyes bulged as he trailed a finger lazily down his chest, “Do I need to do more, Vitya?”

                “Who the _hell_ taught you that nickname!?” Victor pleaded, trying to ignore how Yuuri’s hand was now resting on the belt of his robe.

                Yuuri chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down Victor’s spine. “I’m your biggest fan, remember? I know everything about you.”

                That comment triggered something in Victor. He raised a quizzical eyebrow and smirked. “Oh, you think so, do you?”

                Yuuri’s grin only grew as his stomach flipped when he saw Victor’s eyes dilate. He shrugged innocently.

                That did it.

                With a hungry growl, Victor pushed Yuuri’s hands off his shoulders, making him topple down into his open arms. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri and flipped over, pressing the smaller man into the deep cushions of the sofa. He shifted until he pressed himself against Yuuri, his head swimming as his tongue grappled with Yuuri’s for dominance. Yuuri gripped the back of his robe with his fists. Victor arched his back so he could reach between them to undo the belt without stopping his kisses as he trailed his lips along Yuuri’s jawline and neck, flicking his tongue, tasting the soap he’d used in the shower.

                “Well you don’t know _everything_! You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he hissed against Yuuri’s throat as he pulled the robe off his shoulders, dropping it on the floor, “You don’t know how I have to keep my cool every time you perform “Eros”,” his voice was thick and low as he sat up, drinking in the view of Yuuri panting for breath underneath him, brown eyes almost black with blown pupils, cheeks flushed, “You don’t know how your Free Skate programme brings me more joy and love than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”

                Yuuri stared up at him, surprised. “What?”

                Victor smiled sweetly, cupping Yuuri’s cheek again. “You heard me, moya lyubov. I love you. I love you more than anyone else. You’re the first person I’ve ever felt this way about. That’s why I have to stop.”

                And with that, he stepped up and moved to sit on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Yuuri lay on the sofa, totally confused.

                Victor continued to smile, tilting his head a little so his silver hair fell in front of his eye. “As much as it’s killing me right now to do so, I have to control myself, Yuuri. I gave in to my selfish ways today at the rink, and looked what happened. If I give in again, I won’t be able to stop until I’ve explored every inch of you, until I’ve squeezed every last drop - every last scream - out of you, and I can’t do that to you.”

                Yuuri quickly sat up. “But I want you to!” he exclaimed.

                Victor laughed. “Oh, I guessed that much, Solnechnyy luch! But… this is new to you and I don’t want to frighten you. The way I feel is totally different to “Eros” – it’s more than that; it’s eating me up inside to the point where I know one day it’s going to erupt out of me and you’ll be in the line of fire. Look how you reacted today when Yurio called you – there are worse people out there, Yuuri; trust me, I know. It’s my job as your coach to protect you from those people, especially now when you’re so close to the Grand Prix Final!”

                Yuuri nodded slowly. He locked eyes with Victor again, the fire dimmed a little in them. He reached out to gently take Victor’s hand in his.

                “I get that. I really do, Victor. But what about your job as Victor?”

                Victor frowned at him.

                “Remember that day at the beach?”

                Victor smiled. Of course he remembered.

                “You told me you just wanted me to be myself.”

                Yuuri stood up and pulled Victor gently to his feet. They stood there for a moment. Sapphire met Chocolate brown again.

                “I want you to be Victor. Just Victor.”

                Victor pressed his forehead to Yuuri’s and smiled. “I _am_ Victor. I’m _your_ Victor.”

                Yuuri grinned. “I’m your Yuuri.”

                Victor thoughtfully chewed his bottom lip. “Is… it okay if I just hold you tonight, Yuuri?”

                “That’s all?” Yuuri blushed a little at how shocked his own voice sounded.

                “Is there a rush?” Victor teased, grinning as Yuuri pouted at him.

                Yuuri scratched the back of his head. “Well, no…I guess not. Now I know how you feel. I guess I just got caught up in the moment. Sorry.”

                Victor pecked Yuuri’s lips. “Nothing to apologise for,dorogaya .” He gestured to the bed, thrilled at finally being able to use these sweet words.

                Yuuri blushed and Victor couldn’t help but laugh. Now that he’d had a moment to think about it, Yuuri was flustered again and he averted his eyes to his feet, curling his toes into the thick carpet. And, _God_ , Victor loved him for it!

                “You don’t have to be naked if you don’t want to be.” He reassured him. It seemed to do the trick, judging by the way Yuuri’s shoulders relaxed. He tiptoed up to kiss Victor’s cheek before going to his suitcase to find his pyjamas.

                Victor’s fingertips traced the spot on his cheek that Yuuri had kissed, a heat blooming there like a beautiful rose.

                Once Yuuri was dressed in pale-blue cotton pyjamas, he returned to Victor’s side, a grey t shirt in his hand. Victor glanced down at it, eyebrow raised.

                “Umm… I know you usually sleep naked, but…” Yuuri stammered, face glowing red.

                Victor had to stop himself from laughing. Hadn’t he thought to himself earlier tonight that he’d might have to ask Yuuri if he could borrow a t shirt? And here he was, offering without being asked.

                He placed a sweet kiss on Yuuri’s temple, taking the t shirt. It was obviously smaller than what he’d normally wear, but if it made Yuuri more comfortable if he wore it, then he’d gladly do it.

                They walked over to the bed together. Yuuri made his way to the left side, Victor the right. They threw the numerous cushions and pillows on the floor and pulled the soft duvet down. Yuuri felt that this was an incredibly intimate moment as he climbed into bed, not taking his eyes off Victor. It was only as he laid down that he realised that this was the first time he’d actually been on the bed.

                “Wow! You were right – it _is_ like a cloud!” he grinned as he sank into the mattress.

                Now Victor did laugh, his heart fluttering at the sight of Yuuri sighing contentedly next to him.

                He raised his arm, allowing Yuuri to slide over to him. He felt something almost like pride flood his chest as Yuuri laid his head against him and wrap one arm around his waist. He was proud that they had overcome such a huge obstacle, had grown closer than he’d ever dared dream for.

                He was proud to say that he loved Yuuri.

                There was still going to be a lot to sort out. A lot of questions to answer, rumours to quash, allegations to set straight. But that could all wait until morning. All that Victor cared about right now was in his embrace.

                He wrapped his arm over Yuuri’s shoulder, hugging him to his chest. He raked his free hand through Yuuri’s hair, before cupping his chin to draw him in for a tender kiss.

                “Goodnight, moya lyubov.” He whispered against Yuuri’s lips.

                “Goodnight, my Vitya.” Yuuri sighed as he rested his head against Victor’s heart and closed his eyes. His heart swelled as he felt Victor kiss his forehead and wrap both arms around him, holding him gently but solidly against him.

                As sleep began to claim him, he remembered how, at the beginning of the night, he had said that the room had expected sex. He felt his face burn for a moment, realising how close he had actually come to fulfilling that expectation. But as he felt Victor sigh as he drifted to sleep, he knew this was so much better.

                He smiled to himself as a new thought pulled him into a blissful dream:

                “It certainly been a day for surprises.”

 

**THE END.**

               

 

 

               

**Author's Note:**

> _*PHEW!*_
> 
> I'm sooo nervous and excited that I finally bit the bullet and posted something :D
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think <3
> 
> Thanks for reading <3<3


End file.
